Black Out
by jwhittle
Summary: AU One shot- Six years have passed since the end of the war and our favorite chap has returned from the Veil. Grimmauld Place suffers a simple, muggle black out, but there's a lot of fun to be had in the dark. NC-17


**Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction set in the Harry Potter universe – all recognisable characters and settings are the property of J. K. Rowling and her associates. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is made from this work. Please observe your local laws with regards to the age-limit and content of this work.**

**Summary: AU One shot- Six years have passed since the end of the war and our favorite chap has returned from the Veil. Grimmauld Place suffers a simple, muggle black out, but there's a lot of fun to be had in the dark. (NC-17)**

**"Who is more foolish, the child afraid of the dark or the man afraid of the light?" --Maurice Freehill**

Logic was something Hermione Granger was familiar with. Reason, too, was a sense that she wielded. And yet here she was, once again, having pitted the two against one another.

On one hand, Hermione could understand that it was _reasonable_ to feel the way she currently did-- she had, after all, been living in close proximity with the man for the past year. But on the other, she was unequivocally sure that her feelings and misguided infatuation were completely and utterly _illogical_.

He was Sirius Black for Christ sake! Ladies' man, mans' man, a broken man;

Twelve years in Azkaban, seven behind a Veil-- He was damaged goods, dammit! What sort of relationship could they possibly have together?

And yet, even as the logical half of Hermione's mind was arguing the point, the reason behind her heart -the essence of what she believed- told her that he only needed mending. That the other women, the flings who came and went within half an hour, were just distractions which quelled the hurt within his heart. _She_ had been his savior. _She_ had been the one who spent tumultuous hours within that darkened room. Researching, experimenting, investigating the Veil. She had torn him from whatever limbo he had existed in for seven years and given him a new life, away from darkness, away from captivity. She believed, to the foundation of her being, that if he would let her, she could mend his broken spirit.

And so, once again, reason won out; spurring Hermione's romantic delusions onwards.

"...So what do you think, dear?"

Molly's expectant face and the open-ended question ripped Hermione back to reality as she attempted to formulate an answer to the unheard question. The logical side of her mind laughed openly at her struggles, taunting her for staring unashamedly in Sirius' direction.

"Well, I'd... I'd say that I agree with you, Molly," she stuttered quietly, praying to God that the answer would suffice.

Molly's face broke out into a large, crinkly smile and Hermione inwardly cheered at her apparent success.

"That's excellent, dear, I'll get Ronald to give him your number then!" She gushed brightly, and with those parting words, hobbled off towards the youngest male Weasley, leaving Hermione to ponder what on earth she'd gotten herself into. She watched as Molly whispered excitedly to Ron, cheeks swelling softly with her smile, before Ron too smiled widely, turning to give Hermione the thumbs up;

"I'll give Seamus your number on Monday, 'Mione. He'll be so glad to hear from you!"

Ah, so it was in regards to her love life-- or rather, the lack thereof. Hermione gave an awkward sort of smile which she intended to come off as grateful, but was quite sure surfaced as a grimace.

Another pointless date.

It wasn't so much that Hermione didn't like to date, it was more that she couldn't seem to kick her habit of comparing said suitors to Sirius.

They were either too loud, too withdrawn, too boastful, too conceited. They lacked the perfect balance that Sirius so skillfully wielded. That seemingly effortless arrogance that came off as confident, rather than egotistical. Hermione cringed as she reminisced over this past years dating track. There had been few first dates, fewer seconds and only one occasion where she has actually consummated the liaison. Ron, whom she had broken up with three years ago, remained to date her longest relationship.

"You okay?"

The familiar tone of concern that she had grown so used to in the past twelve years halted Hermione's self depreciating analysis. She turned to face Harry with a well masked expression of joy and hugged his large torso tightly as she attempted to convince him of her happiness.

"It's good to see you, Harry," she whispered earnestly, breaking away from their embrace to face his inquisitive expression.

"You too, Hermione. And thanks, again, for organizing all this. I know Sirius appreciates it."

Hermione nodded mutely, gazing around the Kitchen of Grimmauld Place. Balloons cluttered the roof busily, glowing now and then to reveal the 'Happy Birthday' print upon their surface; A large banner covered almost the entire right wall, golden letters spelling out Sirius' name with a large, black dog moving gracefully from side to side; and a tall, pillared cake sat centered on the wooden table, the words 'Happy First Birthday' spelt in icing. All in all, Hermione was quite proud of her humorous, yet tasteful, decorations. It was, as Harry had said, worthy of appreciation

...and yet it wasn't.

Not completely, anyway.

"It seems odd that he's only been back for a year, doesn't it?" Harry inquired, swinging his arm playfully across Hermione's shoulders. "It really seems like he never left."

"I know what you mean," Hermione agreed, moving them out of the Kitchen and towards a swelling, but blissfully pregnant, Ginny. "He's just this infectious presence which makes everyone around him just a little happier."

_Or a _lot_ happier_, her thoughts reminded, taunting Hermione, once again, for her affections.

"'Mione," Ginny cheered delightedly, her small legs kicking out from her large belly, "love the first birthday theme, very suave."

Hermione laughed brightly, taking the seat besides her friend and not-so-subtly twisting the chair so that it faced one Mr. Black.

_God, you're pathetic_, she thought inwardly, though showed no sign of moving from her perve-post.

"How you been, Gin? Pregnancy hormones enjoyable?" She asked happily, moving her hand over the other woman's swelling stomach.

"The very best," Ginny replied, knocking back a glass of pumpkin juice and burping most unashamedly. "But you wouldn't believe how horny it makes you."

Harry blushed a deep scarlet while Hermione laughed openly at his apparent embarrassment.

"Well, as long as Harry's treating you right," Hermione quipped, leaving Ginny smiling knowingly and Harry burying his head between his hands.

Hermione wandered back through the kitchen and out onto the patio, breathing the fresh air in deeply. It was stifling, sometimes, seeing the happy couples, their futures laid out in front of them. They had real dreams for the days to come, expectations of what time would bring. The only expectation that Hermione had come to rely on was a fresh bottle of fire-whisky at the end of each month.

"Enjoying solitary anonymity?"

It was strange that her heart could simultaneously beat and break at the sound of that voice.

"I was," she returned quickly, though her tone held no malice or spite. "Take a seat, Sirius."

The older man smiled appreciatively and slouched down on the step beside Hermione.

"Thanks for the party, love. I can't remember it, but I'm willing to bet that this one topped my previous first birthday."

She gave a soft, hopeful sort of laugh, and leant back across the steps, staring upwards towards the night sky.

"Full moon," Sirius whispered faintly, running a hand through his self-proclaimed 'sex-hair' and sighing roughly.

Hermione listened silently to his uneven breaths and knew that he was thinking of Remus. Of James and all the others that he had lost. She thought of saying something supportive, but could think of nothing that would not appear condescending, and so, settled for placing a timid hand upon his own.

His hand remained still for a second, the intricate tattoos upon his fingers motionless. But after a moment his palm wrapped warmly around hers, fiddling absentmindedly with her finger tips as Hermione watched on in fascination.

She was unsure how much time lapsed sitting there, but at some point, Harry began calling her name loudly, shouting words such as 'cake,' 'late' and 'hormones.'

She rose reluctantly from her position and shambled away from the patio. Away from the night sky. Away from Sirius.

Hermione was sick of hurting. Sick of searching for seemingly meaningful signs. A touch here, a look there; some symbol that Sirius thought of her as something more than the child she had been.

She charged through the back door with a little more force than was necessary and stared contemptuously at the four tier cake. Was this all she could offer? Culinary cooking skills in the hopes that Sirius might come to his senses and notice that he had an available witch in front of him. Hermione knew that she was desirable in her own way, but it was hidden beneath her sharp mind and witty banter. She was envious of those women –those conquests- which shared Sirius' bed. They're promiscuous nature was blatantly evident--sexuality thrown right there on the table. Hermione sometimes wondered what would occur if she began to behave like that. How would Sirius behave if she wondered into a room with nothing but a mini-skirt, a tank-top and stilettos on?

The thought was intriguing, but hardly realistic. It would just be so… un-hermionish.

"Cake, Hermy?"

The sweet, little child who accompanied that voice was the only person permitted to call Hermione such a distasteful name. She suspected that his childish innocence prevented him from understanding the extent to which she objected to the nickname, and so, allowed him to continue.

"I'm cutting it now, Teddy. Why don't you go get the birthday boy inside so we can all wish him happy birthday?"

Said child nodded enthusiastically, running with a youthful carelessness past the back door and onto the patio.

Teddy was the spitting image of his father, with the quirky metamorphagus tendencies of his mother. He was a constant reminder of those lives lost in the War, but he was also a sign of hope, a sign that there _was_ life amongst death.

One by one, party goers made their way into the kitchen, crowding round the table in a large cluster. Harry stood with Ginny, his long arms wrapped around her stomach; Ron with Luna, a dazed look on both their faces; George held newborn Roxanne, while Angelina played with little Fred; Arthur, Molly, Percy and Bill were huddled around Fleur and Victoire, while Neville and fiancé, Hannah, poured butter beer and fire whisky for all.

The only one missing was Sirius.

Hermione looked awkwardly around the table, each expectant face staring back at her.

"He'll be in a minute," she explained, "I think Teddy's just gone to fetch him."

There was a murmur of understanding, followed by the boisterous laughter of Sirius as he swung in through the back door, Teddy swinging languidly on his shoulders.

"Sorry, Hermy. Uncle Sirius was just telling me about what he and daddy used to do on nights like tonight."

Teddy's voice was apologetic, but Hermione could see the thrill and joy that ran behind his irises. She wondered what he would think if he knew the entire story. If he knew that his father thought of his 'transformations' as an affliction rather than a night of 'moony fun' with friends.

"Why don't you sit down, sweetie? You can have the first bit of cake if Uncle Sirius doesn't mind."

Sirius shook his head disinterestedly and hoisted Teddy from his shoulders, placing the small child in his lap.

A rousing chorus of 'Happy Birthday' began, while Teddy and young Fred clapped along. As the song reach its final verse, the cake in the middle of the table sparkled brightly; illuminating three small figures which had recently risen from the top most tier. Hermione watched with nervous anticipation as Sirius cocked one darkened eyebrow, inspecting the cake and its new additions. It was silly, really, that Hermione should put _quite_ so much detail into all things Sirius related, but she felt that this was something he would actually enjoy –or at the very least- appreciate.

A miniature, marzipan dog sat atop the cake, its feet leaving small paw prints in the icing sugar. Beside it, a larger wolf prowled around, scuffing the edges of the cake and licking its paws. And finally, a large stag stood proudly besides the dog, bucking his horns against the pup in a playful manner.

Hermione had aptly avoided any mention or homage to Peter, despite his somewhat honorary ending. Beneath the figures, embossed into the icing in cursive script, read the words "To our always Marauder, and the next generation of Marauders to come." Hermione felt a tight grip on her hand, and as she stared down at the man she had grown to love in the past year, she was startled to see unshed tears teetering beneath his eyelids.

"Thank you, Hermione. Thank you very, very much."

For the first time in her life, Hermione was without words. Her throat felt constricted, dry, and as she attempted to formulate some coherent sentence of gratitude, she found she could only nod dumbly, squeezing his hand back with equal strength.

Harry gave a sharp whistle of applause and then began clapping loudly as Sirius sliced through the cake with a knife.

"If it comes out dirty you have to kiss the nearest girl," Harry whistled, laughing somewhat smugly as the blade was withdrawn covered in icing.

"Oohhhh!!" Ginny cooed loudly, clapping along with Molly as the men wolf whistled and cheered. "Hermione's closest-- you have to kiss her, you have to kiss her, you have to kiss her."

Ginny continued to chant immaturely while Hermione felt her face flush with embarrassment.

_God, this is humiliating,_ she thought inwardly, cowering her face into her shoulder as Sirius rose from the chair. _This is pitiful, really. Good job, Herms. If you keep blushing like that, he might actually think_—

But then his lips were at throat and his hands were at her waist. She could feel the heat emanating full force from his body, his fingertips scolding her skin as they moved around her hips. She felt paralyzed, stunned. As though someone in the room has surreptitiously cast petrificus totalus at her from beneath the table. And as she felt her body being twisted so that Sirius might better reach her lips, the cheers and jaunts from around the table grew silent and the room around her went black.

* * *

Hermione's first thought, embarrassing though it may have been, was that she had passed out. The silence and black pitch surrounding her were evidence to support such a theory, but her state of consciousness and the fact that she was still acutely aware of Sirius' hands indicated that she was, in fact, awake.

Slowly, like flickering lights awakening through darkness, wands were out and several, distinct spells of _Lumos_ were cast. One by one, faces were illuminated around the room and a dense throng of voices erupted. Hermione, embarrassed enough to have practically _forced_ Sirius to kiss her, attempted to wriggle free from his grasp, but his grip only tightened around her hips until she could feel every contour of his chest shaped against her back.

"Please, Hermione, if you know what's good for you, stop wriggling."

Hermione stilled almost immediately as the heavy realization of what she must be doing to him sunk in. She mumbled an incoherent apology and was suddenly incredibly grateful that he could not see her, for she was sure her face was as starkly red as the Weasley's hair.

"It's alright, everyone," Arthur's voice announced through the throng of voices. "I think it's simply a muggle black out. I've read about these before, they generally don't last long and, being wizards, there are counter methods, so if everyone doesn't mind--"

"I don't think that will be necessary, Arthur," Sirius interrupted, his deep, baritone voice causing Hermione's skin to flush further. "It's late now, anyway. I'm probably just going to go to bed. This has been wonderful, really, and thank you so much to everyone for coming, but –despite what the cake may say- I'm not a one year old and I do require an earlier bed time now."

There was a chorus of laughter through the darkened kitchen, followed by a murmur of agreement from the older guests.

Hermione could not help the ripple of disappointment that rushed through her veins, but she nodded fervently against Sirius, mumbling her concurrence.

Slowly, like water seeping through a drain, the guests left; taking with them pieces of cake in their fittingly titled 'doggy bags.' Hermione stood by the fireplace, wishing them all good night and watching silently as the flames licked green.

When the final fire turned to dust, taking with it the brief flickers of light, Hermione turned to face an empty Kitchen, sighing at the mountainous job of cleaning ahead of her.

"I was never one for the muggle method of cleaning, myself," drawled Sirius, stepping from the shadows and taking a seat at the table while he fired spells at the dishes and sink. "And while I _do_ appreciate your determination not to drift into utter 'Wizarding laziness,' I must insist that you allow me this one treat—It is, after all, my first birthday."

Through the moon light streaming in from the kitchen windows, Hermione watched as Sirius' face molded into the familiar smirk as he summoned two glasses and a bottle of fire whisky.

"You game?"

Hermione nodded briskly and heaved herself into the chair beside Sirius, stretching her limbs as far as they would go. She listened silently to the light splatter as Sirius filled two glasses with the amber liquid. It was therapeutic, really. Familiar to them both.

Hermione lifted her glass to the air and gestured for Sirius to do the same.

"To you," she announced proudly, clinking the glasses together. "And to every individual who is a better person due to your body's unwillingness to die."

He gave a short, bark of laughter and clinked the glasses one more, downing a large gulp of whiskey while Hermione sipped timidly at her own.

"Maybe it's more to do with my mind," he mused, "maybe it doesn't want to let go of this world because it's frightened of what it will find in the next."

Hermione stared curiously at him for a moment, appraising his handsome features bathed in the soft glow of evening light. Sirius didn't reveal a lot very often, but when he did, it was always something particularly poignant. Once again, she felt her heart ache for him.

"What a way to end a birthday," Hermione commented offhandedly, leaning back against her chair.

Sirius shrugged slightly, fiddling again with her fingertips.

"Could be worse," he replied. "At least I have the company of some fine liquor and a beautiful witch."

Hermione laughed shrilly with nerves and settled for sipping some more at her whisky.

"…So, Seamus, huh?"

The small amount of liquid that was in her mouth, rushed to Hermione's nose as she choked back in refute. Sirius gave a rough laugh and slapped her on the back as the substance burned down her nose and throat.

"Easy, love. I didn't mean to pry."

"_Pry?!"_ She repeated, wiping her hand across her nose. "You weren't _prying_, there's nothing to even pry about! It's just Molly and her inability to leave me single for more than a month!"

Sirius laughed once more and Hermione mentally admonished herself for being _quite_ so convincing.

"She's been trying the same thing with me, sweet. Tried setting me up with _Rosmerta_ last weekend."

Hermione could not help the jealous thrill that rippled through her at his words, and so returned to drinking her fire whisky, making damn sure she wouldn't inhale it once more.

"So… How was that?" She inquired, unable to quell her curiosity.

Sirius lifted his eyebrow once more and smirked softly as he downed the last of his whiskey.

"Honestly? Disaster--"

Hermione let the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, rush out.

"--But then, that may just be because I'm waiting for Molly to set me up with a _different_ friend of hers."

And once more, the breath was inhaled sharply.

_Well, that hurt._

"Anyone I know?"

_Damn your curiosity, Granger!_

The mental insults were flying like rapid fire, but Hermione could not stifle the voice of reason in her mind which longed to know which witch had taken his heart.

"You should know her," he continued, moving his chair closer. "But I don't think anyone really sees her the way I do, especially not you."

Why did it feel like someone had thrust a sword through her stomach?

"She's beautiful, really. Smart, witty--"

_Okay, stop. Too much information, too much._

"--Sexy, thoughtful, she's everything I could ever really wish for and more… But she doesn't see me for anything more than a friend."

Hermione snorted into her glass and downed the rest of its content quickly.

The boundary between black and wide was growing fuzzy, reason and logic were combining.

"Sirius, I don't think that there's a woman alive who sees you as merely 'a friend.' 'Cept maybe Molly," Hermione finished with a hiccough.

"Do _you_ see me as just a friend," Sirius probed, breathing the words across her face.

"Well that- that's beside the point."

"No, Hermione, I'd say it's very point worthy, indeed."

It was too close, too hot, too much.

Hermione fumbled backwards from him, cursing his flirtatious nature when he had just announced his attraction towards some other tramp.

"You know what, I'll finish up here, Sirius," she murmured dismissively, waving her hand towards the exit. "You're the birthday boy you should get to sleep. You said you needed an earlier bed time."

She wandered towards the sink, not missing the moment of pain which flashed across his face.

This was dangerous, Hermione knew that. The fire whisky had made things seem different, easier, but the situation was exactly the same. This was Sirius. Sirius and Hermione. Platonic relationship. Just friends. He was probably just upset that he wasn't going to get laid on his birthday.

Hermione delved her hands into the soapy water and began frantically washing dishes.

_Yes, a distraction, that'll work. Just don't look back._

Her finger tips felt raw against the scolding water and scour brush, but she continued washing, terrified to turn around and face the seductive eyes of one she felt she would not refuse.

"Hermione…"

His voice was low, almost a purr, and when his hands grasped her hips firmly as he stood behind her, she felt her entire weight give into his hypnotic touch.

_So wrong, so very, very wrong._

"So right," she whispered, leaning against his ministrations and sighing softly at the utter feeling of completeness when their bodies were lined against one another.

His hands snaked around her hips, dancing across the skin above her jeans and orchestrating a symphony of sighs and moans from Hermione.

"Sirius, please…"

She could feel every plane of his chest behind her and the evidence of his arousal was grinding promiscuously against her back.

"The woman I want is everything that I said she is; smart, funny, _sexy--_," he drawled, his teeth tugging erotically at her earlobe. "--But, as I've recently realized,- she is also incredibly naive."

To further this point, he ground harder against Hermione's arse, eliciting a deep, throaty groan from his own throat.

"Do you hear me now, little girl?"

She nodded rapidly, extracting her hands from the soapy water and twisting from his grip so that she could plunge her hands into his ebony locks. She pulled his hair roughly, which extracted another throaty moan, before she pulled him forward with such ferocity that she was surprised they didn't both fall into the sink.

The feeling of his lips on hers was indescribable. They moved familiarly over each others, though they had never touched before. It was as if they were performing a well practiced dance. And as their tongues met in a passionate battle for dominance, Hermione felt every doubt and worry slip away.

As his lips moved across her face and to the junction where neck met jaw, Hermione's hands danced across his chest, pulling the buttons from his shirt as though they burnt her. When at last his chest was no longer hindered by the fabric of his shirt, Hermione's palms moved swiftly across the skin, dragging her nails across his nipples and abdomen in accordance with his gasps and moans.

"God, love, you're so… so fucking beautiful… so fucking _mine_."

His words and terms of endearment continued to roll of his tongue as Hermione traced each intricate tattoo on his chest. When her hands rolled over his broad shoulders, however, he stilled, his hands suddenly pinning her wrists to her sides.

"You don't have to touch me there, love. I know I've got… scars. Women generally don't like to, well, to touch me there…"

If Hermione couldn't visibly see the pain and raw honesty behind his eyes, she would have thought him joking. She grasped her chin within her hand, forcing him to face her.

"Sirius Orion Black," She stated, puncturing each word until his eyes met hers. "You are, without a doubt, the most beautiful man I have ever had the pleasure of knowing."

He attempted to look away, but Hermione's hands held firm.

"Don't you _dare_ tell me that you're less of a man because you've got these--"

She pressed her palm openly against the scars across his shoulders, tracing her finger tips down to the one in the middle of his chest.

"These, these make you what you are. You've given up so much, Sirius. Had so much taken from you. But that doesn't make you weak, it doesn't make you damaged. It makes you strong, Sirius—It makes you the man you are today."

With her final word, she moved her head deftly towards his broad chest, kissing him in the centre and tracing a trail with her tongue to his shoulders and neck, before finally returning to his lips.

"Do I make myself clear?"

His hands grabbed her shoulders roughly, and his lips met hers in a searing kiss that touched Hermione from tip to toes.

"You. You, Hermione, are perfect."

His hands moved towards her shirt, and with a swift pull, ripped the item from her body. Hermione was sure she'd care in the morning that her clothes were being destroyed, but for now, all that mattered was the feeling of his hands at her breasts as he pulled the bra free.

"Merlin, witch, you're so fucking perfect. I can't believe it. Do you know how torturous it's been living here?" He asked, skillful hands massaging her breasts as her head leant back in ecstasy. "Do you know what I've suffered seeing you everyday in these tight little outfits and not being able to do anything about it."

His hands moved further down her body until they were at the fly of her jeans.

"I've wanted to bury myself within you from the minute I saw you. And then everyday, being able to hear your soft moans as you touched yourself, being able to _smell_ your arousal. I always liked to think that you were thinking of me. That I was the reason you were touching yourself--"

"You were," Hermione gasped wriggling her hips as the jeans fell down her thighs. "It was always you, Sirius, always you."

He growled possessively and ground his erection into her panty-clad crotch, withdrawing a deep moan from Hermione.

Sirius's fingers moved deftly towards her slick folds, tearing the lace from her body and moving his fingers towards her aching slick.

"Fuck, you're so wet, baby, so wet for me."

Hermione has lost all coherent thought, and when his finger finally moved inside her, she yelped shrilly and ground against the palm of his hand.

"Sirius, Sirius, Sirius, Sirius, Sirius."

She continued to chant his name as his thumb moved towards her aching clit, rubbing the swollen mound in circles as Hermione's gasps grew shallower. It had never felt like this, in all her sexual partners she had never felt so close to screaming from the stimulation of a man's mere fingers.

Sirius' voice was low and shallow, his eyes clouded over from grey to almost black.

"Come for me, baby," he whispered, words punctuating his kisses. "Let me feel that glorious cunt squeezing my fingers."

He added a second finger then, moving roughly within her in time with the movements of his thumb. With a final, well rehearsed flick of his thumb, Hermione's world came melting down around her; Sirius' name torn from her lips as her juices flooded his hand.

Time had no meaning where she was. And as she floated blissfully in her euphoric, post-orgasmic bubble, she decided that she had never felt more right in her entire life.

"God, you're magnificent, Hermione. I've never seen anything like you."

His words began to ground her in reality once more, and with it, the realization that she owed him a massive debt now.

Her hands moved quickly to his pants, caressing the hard mound within the fabric as Sirius' eyelids fluttered shut. She tore open the button and fly quickly, delving her hands within his briefs as both of them gasped at the initial contact.

He was magnificent; Long, hard, smooth and the type of girth that would allow for some fantastic penetration. She trailed her hand around his head softly, marveling at his quiet moans and deep, shaky breaths. It had been so long, she had almost forgotten what it felt like to hold a man. Hot, hard and silky.

His eyes were almost reverent as she shimmied down his body, but as her tongue took one languorous swipe of his cock from base to tip, Sirius shuddered almost violently and hoisted her shoulders up once more; throwing her against the table in a manner which caused all heat to rush to the junction between her thighs.

"God, love, you have no idea how much I want to see your perfect little mouth wrapped around my cock, but I won't last. And I'll be damned if I don't get to bury myself within your tight little cunt tonight."

Hermione nodded rapidly as Sirius' arms swept the table, pushing presents, bottles and all content to the floor.

The cake fell to the ground with an almost comical splat, but Hermione was too preoccupied with the attentive man ahead of her to care at all.

Sirius pushed her further up the table, spreading her thighs and growling low and dangerously as he was met with sight of her aching pussy.

He kissed a hot trail from her ankle to the top of her thigh, before blowing lightly on her pussy.

Hermione moaned roughly and bucked her hips towards him, almost screaming when he took one long swipe –as she had- from her slit to her swollen nub.

"Please, Sirius, please! I need… I need…"

"You need what, love?" He replied, suckling hard on the nub of nerves.

"…Insiddee meee!"

She called, sighing in gratitude when he shimmied up her body.

The head of his cock balanced timidly at her entrance, swiping up her slit before rubbing against her clit.

Hermione ground violently against his body, desperate to have him within her.

"Tut tut, Hermione. All good things in time."

And with those final words, slid within her slick folds, both parties groaning in utter ecstasy.

"Fuck, Hermione… You're so tight, so tight for me."

It was all that Hermione could do to stay sane with so much pleasure, and so she bucked her head rapidly, meeting his painfully slow thrusts with every lift of her hips.

"Faster, please, Sirius. You've teased me enough, just fuck me!"

Hermione rarely swore, but she felt she was going to self combust if he didn't pick up the pace.

Sirius smiled ruefully and began slamming into her fragile body, searing her lips with his own as they listened to the slap of their bodies moving as one.

Hermione was murmuring incoherent gibberish as Sirius whispered sweet nothings into her ear. He could have told her he was secretly Voldemort for all the attention she possessed as he pummeled her, his cock stretching her deliciously wide.

"I need something… Something _more_," Hermione murmured, her ankles pushing into Sirius' arse so that he would reach deeper within her.

"This?" He questioned, moving a hand between their bodies to rub roughly on her aching clit.

It took less than three seconds for Hermione's world to turn to stars as she screamed like a banshee with the strength of her orgasm. Her frame visibly shook and Sirius kissed her roughly, thrusting his tongue into her mouth in the same action that his cock was moving.

"Hermione, God, love, I'm going to come. Do you want me to pull out?"

Hermione had never heard such a ridiculous comment in her life, her ankles linked behind his hips and she kissed him strongly on the mouth, gasping as she felt his thrusts grow shallower.

"No, Sirius, please, come inside me."

Those few words did the final touch. As she felt him empty himself within her, the heat of his seed caused her to shake in pure pleasure. This was what perfection felt like. This is what _love_ felt like.

Sirius removed himself from within her, rolling her back so that she was spooned against his side and kissing a trail of fiery kisses from her neck to her ear.

"You're beautiful, you know that. Indescribably beautiful."

Hermione laughed shakily against him, turning in his arms and throwing a leg over his hip.

"Well, you know what, Mr. Black? I do believe--"

Her train of thought was interrupted by the sudden flood of lights that swept through Grimmauld Place kitchen.

"I guess the black out's over," Hermione mused, throwing her head against his shoulder.

"Oh no, love," Sirius replied, picking his wand up at aiming it towards the lights. "This black out has only just began."

Sirius muttered a spell beneath his breath, and once again, Hermione was surrounded by Black.


End file.
